


Piece by Piece

by mabyn



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Up, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabyn/pseuds/mabyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the attack on the White House, Erik visits the mansion to check on Charles. Post DOFP AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piece by Piece

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lefaym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lefaym/gifts).



> Dear lefaym, I loved your prompt asking for angry h/c, and I hope I've managed to do it some justice. 
> 
> Thank you to red for betaing!

“He won’t want to see you.”

“Get out of my way.” Erik pushes past Beast into the mansion and takes the stairs two at time. After everything that happened at the White House, Erik is not going to let some furry blue lackey prevent him from making sure Charles is all right. One, two, three. Erik counts off the rooms as he hurries down the long, drafty hallway, pausing outside the door he remembers from years ago. He doesn’t knock.

“Charles.”

Charles is lying in bed in the curtained room, the wheelchair out of easy reach. Clothing is strewn everywhere. On the dresser there’s an old framed picture of Raven accompanied by another that has been placed face-down. Here and there, old evidence of Charles’s inexplicable decision to mute his own powers has never been cleaned from the floor. Beast is a wretched servant in more ways than one.

“He’s not a servant,” Charles says. “He’s my friend.”

“Friends don’t hide each other from the world.”

“Friends don’t drop stadiums on those they love.”

Those they love. Erik brushes aside the rhetorical turn of phrase. Charles’s face is banged up and bruised, scabs growing over wounds, and his right arm is in a sling. His open shirt reveals a band of bandages around his ribs. Goddammit, why had Charles insisted on meddling with his work? It’s worse than Erik thought. It’s not as bad as he feared.

“You’re a mess. This room is a mess.”

“Yes, well, I haven’t exactly had the chance to clean it.”

Erik picks up a crumpled piece of clothing on the floor and fingers the soft material. It’s an old blue t-shirt Charles used to wear to sleep. Back when Erik knew him, Charles was always impeccably dressed in public. Perhaps that’s why it had always felt so intimate seeing Charles after the blazers and ties had been shed. Erik follows a trail of clothing, gathering one discarded piece after another, until he finds his way to a laundry basket and dumps the lot inside. It’s a start, but there’s so much more to do.

Erik approaches the bed. “Can I sit?”

“No.”

“You’re angry.”

“Yes, Erik, I’m angry.” Charles glares at him, but then his face falls and he sighs. Erik sees every line. “Not really. Not anymore. I can’t change who you are.”

“So I can sit down?”

He’s rewarded with another irritated look, followed by a nod.

The extent of Charles’s injuries don’t allow him to make much room for Erik on the bed. It’s okay, because Erik has never minded being close to Charles, even if he obviously hasn’t showered in days. Erik takes off his coat and throws it on top of an armchair. He loosens his scarf and pulls it off his neck, then unbuttons his shirt.

“Comfortable?” Charles asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Might as well. Looks like I’m going to be here a while.” Erik sits carefully on the edge of the bed. Charles doesn’t protest. “If I’d have known you were there, I would’ve protected you. You must believe that.”

“Like last time?”

“How dare — that woman was shooting at me. What did you expect me to do? This is a war, Charles. And in war — ” Erik pauses and shakes his head. This isn’t how he wanted things to go. Charles watches him, but the angry mask is slipping, and Erik sees some of the sympathy of the man he knows so well, combined with something new, a hard-won wisdom. Charles’s naivety had always grated on Erik’s nerves, but it turns out he hates even more that it’s gone. That it’s been taken from Charles. That Erik is the one who'd taken it.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are, in your way,” Charles says.

“Let me stay a while.”

“Why?”

“Just say yes.”

The first thing Erik will do is clean this hovel until it shines. He’ll draw back the curtains and let in the sunlight. How can a man like Charles recover in this gloom? He’ll wash Charles and change the linens, dress him and bring him downstairs for dinner. They’ll go into the gardens. He’ll make Charles smile. Erik brushes a strand of Charles’s hair back from his sweat-covered forehead. It doesn’t matter how many bruises mark his face or how ugly the scrapes are on his cheek. Charles is as beautiful as he ever was, maybe more now that everyone can see the scars of his battles. Erik had underestimated him.

“And I, I think, have underestimated you,” Charles says.

Erik smiles back at him. He takes off his shoes and tucks them under the bed.


End file.
